The Last Bus on Route 17

Everyone in Pine Hollow knew not to take the last bus on Route 17, but Mark missed

his ride home. The driver never spoke, just nodded with hollow eyes.

The bus smelled of rust and cold rain. As they drove deeper into the woods,

Mark noticed the road signs were wrong—names scratched out, arrows bent backward.

His phone lost signal. The passengers sat perfectly still, faces pale, breathing silent.

When Mark stood up, the bus stopped on its own. The driver slowly

turned his head all the way around. “You’re not on the schedule,” he whispered. The doors opened

to a graveyard hidden in the trees. Every headstone had a date… and Mark’s name.